Slice of Life Tuesday:Just another morning…

Jack Frost has left his tracks across our windows, and they sparkle softly in winter’s blue light. The radiator sighs and tries mightily to take the edge off the early morning cold in time for the arrival of the residents of our room. When I turn on the lights, the daffodils on my desk glow like a beacon of good cheer.

It’s just another morning…

Boots and sneakers gallumph and squeak up the stairs and down the hallway, accompanied by shouts of laughter and early morning student whining. Lockers swing and smack open and shut, open and shut. Two boys attempt to roll down the ramp, and then pretend not to as they catch sight of me. A big group assembles around one student desperately trying to finish his homework before the first bell – they are calling time, just to keep him on his toes.

It’s just another morning…

Our room begins to fill. Plants are watered. Desktops are made ready. A group sits on the radiator reading, their long hair lifts and falls to the rhythm of its breathing. Someone has wedged herself under the easel with a barricade of cushions – the last few pages of a book need to be enjoyed in utter privacy. Two boys are fashioning paper airplanes as five others look on: paper airplanes are serious work, an art form even. A group has gathered on the reading rug to study for a Latin test. In the very far corner of the room, someone has managed to suspend himself upside down from the rocking chair – his eyes are focused on the ceiling, his arms are splayed out on the rug and his fingers are tap tap tapping a rhythm only he can hear.

Great progression, wonderful crafting, Tara, of “just another morning.” There is something comforting about morning routines that anchor us in the present, in peace and predictability. Such a heartwarming piece! I removed your last sentence and I found myself standing at a place where two roads meet. Would the day unfold peacefully, predictably? Or would it become something definitely not “just another morning.” I’m waiting to see. I love it!

You clearly are so much in love with your classroom and the students who fill it. I loved the contrast between the two…the early quiet moments of just BEING in your classroom…then the transition as the noisy kids arrive and fill up the room. This post has so many sensory stimuli in it, including the daffodils. I hope you’ll share it with your students.

Sounds like the start of something (essay, book) you might want to follow. Especially love this line as it offers such a keen insight into how you see and pay attention: “Someone has wedged herself under the easel with a barricade of cushions – the last few pages of a book need to be enjoyed in utter privacy.”

The clever use of the repetitive refrain serves to remind us that there is a lot going on, if only we take the time to closely observe. Such a well constructed slice drawing due attention to the events of the day. Writers are observers. You demonstrate once again that you understand this important fact Tara.